It was a pretty slow day.
I kept looking out at the rain falling, and dripping from the roof across the way, and I decided to get out my notebook and try to describe it.
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Rainy day, looking out the window
I watch the rain against the opposite wall
Big silver drops fall from the edge of the roof
Dripping down the shingles
Gathering in tiny intermittent streams
Constantly dripping in the same places
Big bright drops forming solid vertical lines
In the air, in my vision
Against the dark wet wood.
Meanwhile, rain continues to fall
Wild and blowing – not a storm
But a constant breeze
A swarm of tiny drops, blown about
Pushed relentlessly at an angle by the wind
Swirled around erratically by further gusts
Defying the straight silver lines of the rooftop drips.
The droplets from the roof have already landed
Joined together, flowing along the surface
Along the path of least resistance
Even as they fall again,
They follow a straight path
Too substantial to be blown off course,
They simply drop straight down.
In their final descent, those straight lines
Highlight the wild flurry with which they fell
From untold heights
Blown about and swirled, as are those drops
Still blowing around the lines as they fall.
Having missed the roof,
They are wild for just a moment longer,
Free in the air.
The rain begins to slow, until
There are only the big silver drips
Falling in straight lines from the roof’s edge
All joining, once again, on the ground
Flowing away together
Through the cracks of the boardwalk
Soaking into the grass
Until only a few drops keep falling, here and there
Having taken refuge in the trees
Slipping from leaf to leaf
Until there is nowhere left to fall.
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